The Case of Henry's Publick House

On Sept. 27, 1990, Mehrdad Dashti, a deranged man carrying
three concealed handguns, walked into a popular U.C.-Berkeley
hangout. Twenty minutes later, he opened fire, injuring many
people and killing one. Ultimately, the incident became an eight-hour
siege during which 33 people were held hostage.

Dashti, a diagnosed schizophrenic distraught over denial of
a student loan, relayed his demands through hostages who spoke
on the phone and shouted out the window. One of his demands
was that then San Francisco Police Chief Frank Jordan appear
on a local TV show and drop his pants. Dashti also demanded
$16 trillion from the federal government and ownership of several
states.

After more than seven hours of negotiations, police decided
continued attempts were fruitless. Later, the police said, "Dashti
kept saying somebody would get executed if Jordan didn't get
on television." Police stormed the bar, killing Dashti and freeing
the hostages.

During the siege, local TV stations carried the story live.
People outside the bar, including one TV reporter in an apartment
across the street, could see Dashti watching the coverage. As
part of that coverage, reporters told viewers Dashti was possibly
drunk and making "irrational and strange" demands; they also
broadcast information from police scanners, especially the location
of a SWAT team and other police movements.

A few days after the event, the hostages issued a statement
criticizing the TV reporters. "Your station put the lives of
33 individuals in serious jeopardy," they wrote in a letter
to a local news director. "Fresh threats of violence and death
ensued, hardly the comfort, we believe, a responsible station
would have at least attempted to produce." They said the escalation
was particularly evident when Dashti heard about police movements
and "became more eager to demonstrate his seriousness, calling
for volunteers to die."

The news director replied, "We didn't know he was watching
our station. But we didn't receive any request from police to
withhold information, not [to] show something, or to shut down
our cameras.... At some point, [we] have to report what is going
on. At some point, we have to do our job. It sounds callous,
but there are negative effects of many things we report. Not
to say what we think he really is makes us look stupid."

A manager from a different station disagreed: "It worries
me very much that we might put on anything that would even inadvertently
harm anyone. In an effort to be first and be aggressive, you
may not even realize what you are showing is doing that. But
ultimately, the decision rests with the producer in the booth,
and it may be that the best decision sometimes may be to cut
away from live coverage."

Two days later, the manager of the first station acknowledged
her organization had made "a serious error in judgment" in its
coverage. She also admitted police had contacted the station
after Dashti's initial demands, but she reiterated, "In subsequent
conversations, neither the police nor the experts on the scene
issued limits as to what should or should not be broadcast."
She said the station and the police would meet to discuss coverage
guidelines for the future.

If you had been the news producer that day, what ethical questions
would you have asked? How would you have decided what to do?

This case was written by Thomas Shanks, S.J., Executive
Director of the Markkula Center for Applied Ethics.

The views expressed on this site are the author's. The
Markkula Center for Applied Ethics does not advocate particular positions
but seeks to encourage dialogue on the ethical dimensions of current
issues. The Center welcomes comments
and alternative points of view.